When Brad Met Tamora
by CelticWarriorMoon
Summary: My first fanfic! Takes place before the Basically just chronicles Tamora Calhoun's past love life, from her first encounter with Brad to the horrific incident that ended it Calhoun's Rated T for some brief violence and some blood/character Please read and review to let me know what you guys think! *Rating may change to M for later chapters*
1. Chapter 1: The First Encounter

**When Brad met Tamora**

Chapter 1: The First Encounter

Cy-bugs. That was all I could see for miles around. Just an endless sea of black and luminous green, flying towards me menacingly. I knew I should have done something, but you know when you're just frozen to one spot even though you know you should _really _get the hell out of an area? Well, that was exactly how I felt. Exactly how.

Without further delay, I drew out my gun and, aiming it at random cy-bugs, consequently found that it was empty. I was out of ammunition, and at such a time, too. The only way I could see out of this was to be eaten by one of those monsters, which was something that I really didn't want to happen. Something that, if I could help it, I would not let happen to me.

I presently found myself backing further and further away from the advancing threat. Where were my men when I needed them? At the local bar, probably, drinking away all the stress that was constantly placed upon them. Right at that moment, I couldn't say I blamed them. A fair few drinks was what anyone would need in such a harsh environment, even if they were a seemingly fearless Space Marine – like me.

Anyway, I was not prepared for what happened next.

Suddenly one of the many cy-bugs came full force at me. I barely had time to defend myself before I was knocked to the cold, hard ground. I found myself looking into the terrifying steely jaws of a cy-bug, which were opened with the full intent of consuming me. I couldn't see any visible way out of this. Whether I liked it or not, I was doomed, pretty much.

I closed my eyes, silently praying that the end would be swift. I wasn't scared, of course (would you expect me to be?), but I was pretty close. I had accepted by now that my life was more or less over.

Suddenly, I heard a series of shots in quick successsion from somewhere behind the cy-bug. I curled up into a ball, and thought to myself, "This is it. I'm dead." Although, I thought further, I couldn't have been. No, I was still (miraculously) alive. But how? Who could have saved me from such a brutal attack?

Turns out I was just about to find out.

I opened my eyes, and saw, where the monstrous cy-bug had been seconds before, a pool of green cy-bug gore on the ground, as well as splattered all over my armour. I got to my feet, a little shakily (yeah, little is the operative word. I'm not weak) and saw, standing in front of me, a man I did not recognise, a gun slung over his shoulder. Noticing I had got to my feet, he rushed over to me and and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Yes," I replied, "but I didn't need saving."

"You did," the man pointed out. "You were out of ammo."

"I know," I thought to myself. "I was the one almost devoured by that monster. There's no need to state the obvious."

"Look, I don't know who you are and what you're doing out here, but I can look after myself, okay?" was my somewhat annoyed reply. "I don't need you to help me shoot up those damn bugs to hell and back, so just-"

I broke off when I realised that there were no cy-bugs left in the immediate area. Had this guy somehow killed all of them? I looked around, and all I could see was a horrid mess of green gore amidst mangled cy-bug bits. I looked back at the stranger. Come to think of it, he looked kinda familiar, though I had no idea where I'd seen him before.

Noticing my somewhat surprised and confused expression, he said to me, "I know what you're thinking. Yes, I killed every single remaining cy-bug in the immediate area."

"Really?" I found myself incredulously thinking to myself. I blinked a few times in astonishment, to the amusement of the somehow-familiar man.

"Well," I replied, somewhat coldly, "thank you."

I started to walk away, only for the man to follow me. He placed his hand on my shoulder. I turned around quickly (I suppose I have quick reflexes) and he said to me, "Hey, aren't you Sergeant Calhoun? The tough-as-nails commander of so many soldiers who positively hate you?"

I paused. I smirked a little, and thought, "That's me alright."

"Yes, that's me," I answered. "But how did you know?"

"I'd recognise you anywhere," the man replied. Inwardly, I grimaced at this notion. I couldn't stand when people said things like that about me. But I let it stand in this instant. After all, I supposed it was true.

The man continued, "Anyway, this morning I saw, from the window of our temporary laboratory building, you leave to fight off an incoming swarm of cy-bugs."

"Oh," I replied. "You're a scientist?"

I started to piece it all together in my head. I was certain that I knew this guy from somewhere, even if I had just seen him briefly.

"Yes," he replied. "You may know me already. I'm Dr. Brad Scott, head of technology and beacon development."

So _that_ was where I recognised this man from. I _had_ seen him briefly a few times before, working in the laboratory. But why had he decided to save me at this moment? I wanted to ask, but instead found myself replying, "Oh yeah, I knew I could have sworn I'd seen your face somewhere before."

I was completely surprised by what came next.

"Well, I know a lot of people would instantly recognise you, anyway," Brad said to me, "the beautiful woman you are."

I was surprised. No-one had ever dared call me beautiful before. If they did, they would have got a good, hard punch in the face. So why did I accept Brad's compliment? Damn it.

I just said "thanks," and began to walk off again. I hadn't gone very far before I heard the sound of footsteps behind me. I turned around, and saw Brad. What was he doing, following me like that? Men. I really didn't understand them sometimes.

"Why are you following me?" I asked him.

He stopped. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it again. (Personally, I didn't think I could have that effect on some people, but okay.)

I was starting to get annoyed with this guy's behaviour.

"Well, if you're just going to stand there looking like a prat, you could at least go off and make yourself useful," I said to Brad, only it didn't come out half as authoritative as I would have liked. What was wrong with me? I certainly wasn't falling in love with this guy – hell, no – but even if I was, I didn't want to admit it. Although...

"No," I thought sternly to myself. "I will not think these things about someone I hardly know." But, despite that, I started to feel a little funny inside. Maybe I _was_ slipping under after all.

I waved a hand dismissively at Brad, but he didn't leave. He just came closer to me and said, "Seriously. Has no-one ever told you how beautiful you are?"

I paused. He had said it again, something that I supposed was true, although it was something I had long since refused to believe. I decided to tell him the truth. After all, if he was one of us, I felt that I could trust him.

"No, actually," was my reply to his question, and then I added, "because if they ever dared to do such a thing, they would have got a good, hard punch in the face."

Brad smiled a little then. Oh Mod, he looked good when he smiled. Hang on. Had I just admitted that to myself? Damn.

"I know," Brad replied. "I've heard a lot of your soldiers complaining about you, saying that you're nothing but a grumpy old cow. Which I now doubt is true, by the way."

"Well, it is – sometimes," I said, and we both laughed a little. Laughed? "Depends on how I'm feeling."

"I know," Brad replied. "I've heard what you can be like most days. They definitely didn't make you Sergeant for nothing, it seems."

I smiled. This must have surprised Brad, as he said to me, "Hey, I've never seen you smile before."

"Yeah, I usually don't have any cause to," I answered. "Between fighting cy-bugs and trying to keep those pathetic excuses for soldiers in line, well-"

I stopped. I thought I saw something behind Brad. Something cy-bug shaped. Something that was a cy-bug!

"Behind you!" I exclaimed.

Bard turned around quickly, and saw what I was seeing – a real live cy-bug, looking ready to kill. He instinctively drew out his gun and fired a few rounds in the direction of the monster. They ricocheted uselessly off the cy-bug's outer shell, enraging it even further. Trust me, there's nothing worse than an angry cy-bug. Well, hardly anything at least.

I knew I had to take action.

Seeing that Brad was now out of ammo, I shouted in his direction, "Go and get help. I'll distract it."

Brad started to look slightly worried. "But-"

"No buts, soldier!" I replied. "That's an order! Just go!"

He looked reluctant to leave me to the mercy of such a monster, but, obeying my orders, he obediently started running in the direction of the lab building. I watched him go, and then turned to face my opponent. I had to admit, I felt a _little_ scared (yeah, _little_ is the word if you know me), but of course I couldn't show fear or the cy-bug would probably consume me in two seconds flat. Less.

Without further delay, I started running to – I don't know, anywhere would have done really – all the while thinking to myself, "Come on, please let help reach me soon," because, let's face it, if it didn't – I didn't like to think about that for the moment.

I just kept running, not caring where I was headed. I looked behind me, and saw the cy-bug following me, flying at great speed. I supposed I had no hope of outrunning it on foot, but even still, I kept running towards my unknown destination.

Suddenly, my foot caught on a protruding rock, and I was flung to the ground. Damn it, now I really would end up as a cy-bug snack. I looked up, and there above me was the cy-bug, preparing to go in for the kill. I screwed up my eyes as tightly as I could, and once again prayed that the end would be swift.

All of a sudden, a searing, unspeakable pain shot through my right arm. It felt like someone had stabbed a knife into it and tore a long, gaping hole in the skin, and, judging by how strong the pain in my arm was, through several layers of muscle as well. Come to think of it, that probably wasn't too far from the truth. That bloody cy-bug must have found a weak spot in my armour when it pinned me to the ground. I tried my very hardest not to yell out in pain. I could feel the armour on my right arm getting warm and sticky from the blood that poured from the open laceration, as it ran over my skin and seeped through the armour. It was torture – pure, utter torture – even for a tough-as-nails Space Marine to endure.

"Please let help come soon. _Please!_" my mind was all the more urgently thinking to itself, as I waited for Brad, and possibly more of my soldiers, to come to my aid. Brad. What if the same thing happened to him on his way to find help? And, if it did, then why did I care so much? I didn't have time to mull these thoughts over in my head. Hell, I didn't even have much time left, judging by how close the cy-bug's jaws were to my vulnerable form. The wound on my arm throbbed all the more heavily as I lost more and more blood, every strong pulse of pain counting my final seconds. The cy-bug was now so close to me that I could feel its hot breath upon my face as I waited for my inevitable demise to occur. I had no hope whatsoever of surviving my current predicament, the way I saw things.

Turns out I was wrong.

Suddenly, I heard the sound of powerful shots being fired, as well as footsteps running quickly in my direction and the sound of several voices. Good, that meant I wasn't dead. I gradually opened my eyes, and saw that the beastly cy-bug was no more. All that remained was a pool of green gore and a few scattered bug bits. The danger was over, for the time being at least.

I looked around, and saw Brad, Kohut and several more of my soldiers approaching where I lay, wounded. When they saw that I was alive, but severely injured, they all rushed over to me with concerned looks on their faces.

"Sarge! Are you alright?" Kohut asked me, a noticeable hint of concern in his voice, and then he caught sight of my injured arm. He drew in a sharp intake of breath, and then said to me,"You're bleeding very badly. You're going to need medical attention straight away."

I weakly got my feet, with a little help from Brad, and glanced down at my right arm. Kohut was right. It was a ghastly sight. The flesh had been torn apart savagely, exposing more than one layer of ripped muscle and cracked (though not fully broken, thank Mod) white bone, the surrounding armour becoming increasingly soaked in fresh blood as more and more oozed from the painful wound. I supposed it hurt a lot, but being me, the brave Sergeant Calhoun, I decided not to show it too much.

"I know," I replied, trying not to have the pain lace my every word, "but it doesn't hurt as badly as it looks. Trust me."

I don't think my soldiers believed me when I said that. I didn't even believe _myself_ when I said that. It was all I could do not to cry out in sheer agony, and I think they all saw that, but they didn't try to question it. Instead, we all started walking in the direction of our distant rest – our underground, pretty much cy-bug-proof bunkers. The constant pain from my right arm refused to be ignored, however. Within minutes of us setting out for our bunkers, I started to feel a bit funny. A powerful feeling of dizziness enveloped me, and I felt weak and nauseous almost instantly.

Brad must have noticed that I had grown quite pale and sickly-looking, for he stated as I walked beside him, "You don't look too good."

I didn't feel too good either, to be honest, but nonetheless, I tried hard to disguise that fact.

"Trust me, I'm-" I started to say, and that was when it all became too much for me. The world around me started to blur as the throbbing from the wound continued relentlessly, and then I collapsed.

The last thing my mind registered before I lapsed into unconsciousness was Brad catching me in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2: Hurt and Healing, Part 1

Chapter 2: Hurt and healing, Part 1

Darkness. And pain. They were the only things I knew for a long time, the only things I had to measure my brain's consciousness by. Not that I _was_ even fully conscious of my surroundings, although I could certainly feel one thing – a sharp, sudden pain that seemed to ebb and flow every few seconds. In my mind's fuzzy state of half-consciousness, I could feel what felt like red-hot needles piercing my skin at regular intervals. So that would be it. It didn't really surprise me that I needed stitches. A gaping, nightmarish wound like the one inflicted by that beastly cy-bug would surely have needed to be closed up as soon as possible. Otherwise – I wouldn't make it, plain and simple. I would surely bleed to death, slowly and painfully.

I could also hear, just about, a series of muffled voices, some that I didn't recognise, but one that I did, at least by now.

It was Brad.

The last thing I heard him say before full unconsciousness once again took over my mind was, "She's a strong, brave woman. She'll make it through. I know she will."

...

It wasn't until what felt like a few hours later that I finally had the strength to keep my eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. When I had made sure that there was no danger of me falling asleep again, I looked around and gathered my surroundings. I seemed to be in what looked like a strange cross between a laboratory building and our standard military bunkers, lying in a (very uncomfortable, I thought) bed. I glanced at my injured arm. It was now heavily bandaged, and placed in a sling. Good. That meant I didn't have to put up with the torture of looking at what closely resembled part of a human anatomy model.

I was vaguely aware of the presence of others around me. No – one other person, specifically. Brad.

Noticing I was awake, he walked over to me and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hey, Sarge. How are you feeling?" he asked me.

"I've had better days," I said in reply.

"Is your arm very sore?"

Hmm. Now that Brad had mentioned it, I could feel the constant throbbing of the wound underneath the bandages that concealed it. It hurt like hell, and, while normally I wouldn't admit or even think such a thing (being me, of course), I decided to tell him that.

"Of course it is," I answered. "I was attacked by a cy-bug! What more would you expect from those beastly things?"

"I know," replied Brad. "Silly question. I'm sorry." I could see that he had a look of sympathy on his face. He reached over and retrieved something from the bedside locker beside me.

"Here," he said to me, "try taking this. It might ease the pain a little."

He handed me a small white tablet and a glass of water. I swallowed the tablet down quickly, and within minutes, the throbbing in my arm had quietened down a bit.

I looked at Brad. "Thank you," I said to him.

"Did it help?" he asked.

"A little," I replied.

"Glad to hear it," Brad said to me.

Suddenly a thought struck me out of the blue. While I was lying here incapacitated, who would lead my men and keep them safe from harm? And, more importantly, when would I be able to return to my duties as Sergeant?

"How long will my arm take to heal, do you know?" I asked Brad.

"Probably a few weeks to a month at most," was his answer. "I wouldn't imagine it would take any longer, but you never know."

I found myself frowning slightly at these words.

"But, my men-" I started.

"Yes, I know what you're thinking," Brad replied. "You won't be able to return to your duties as Sergeant any time in the foreseeable future. But don't worry. I'll lead your men if needs be."

I smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you."

He smiled back at me, and replied, "Don't worry. You'll be back out there blasting up those confounded bugs before you know it. If anyone could make it through, it would be you. Just hang in there, Sarge."

He gently laid his hand across my un-bandaged arm. For a moment, I was very tempted to draw it back from his reach – I normally couldn't stand silly little gestures like that – but I let it stand this time. After all, if it wasn't for this guy's help – I would be dead, stone dead. Inside a cy-bug, to be precise.

Brad slowly withdrew his hand from where it lay across my left arm, and got up to leave. Before he left, he informed me, "I'll be back to see you as soon as I can."

With that, he walked over to the door and, on leaving, closed it behind him. I stayed looking at the door for several moments after he left, just in case there was anything else he wanted to say to me, then, just because I could, I settled myself into a comfortable (well, as comfortable as I could manage in my present condition) position and tried to get to sleep.

It didn't actually take long. Before I knew it, I had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep, feeling comfortable in the knowledge that Brad would be returning to see me soon. Because he actually cared about whether I lived or died.

Because he actually cared about me.

...

It was a fiery, intense pain that woke me from my peaceful sleep, a pain that felt like extra-sharp knives stuck deep into the flesh of my lower arm. I sat bolt upright in my bed, forcing myself with all my might not to scream out in pain, and fumbled around for another one of those painkiller tablets that should have been on my bedside locker. Once I had located one (thank Mod, there was another one there), I swallowed it down quickly, the wound still pulsing like mad, and for a while, the pain was so great that it seemed as if it wouldn't work. Thankfully, within a few minutes, the pain had been reduced to only a fraction of its former intensity, of which I was glad.

Also thankfully, it was at that moment that Brad returned to see me.

I heard the familiar sound of the door opening, and in walked Brad. He gave me a small smile, and I couldn't help but smile back. It was comforting to know that I wouldn't have to suffer in silence, that, in the midst of my pain, I had an ally in this caring (and actually quite handsome) scientist.

Wait a minute. Had I _actually just thought that?_ Mod damn it, this guy had totally screwed up my mind. I wasn't used to thinking like this. But even with that in mind, I couldn't see anything halfway wrong with the statement I had just made.

Brad walked over to me and sat down on the edge of the bed. I could see that he had a strange bundle under his arm, but I wasn't in any mood to wonder what it was.

"Hey, Sarge," Brad said to me, in greeting. "Told you I'd come back to see you."

I didn't know what to say in response. I felt like saying, "Don't you have anything better to do than follow me like a little lost puppy?" But the more I thought about it, the less I wanted to give this guy the impression that I wasn't at all grateful of all he'd done for me so far. Needless to say, I was, surprisingly.

I just gave Brad a small smile.

"At least you look happy," he said to me. "Seeing a smile on your face is better than seeing your usual sourpuss expression."

I tried to frown at him, but to my utmost surprise I could not make my mouth do anything but smile. I realised that, whether I liked it or not, I had obviously grown too comfortable in Brad's presence to give him any of my trademark dissapproving looks. Hang on a moment. When had that happened? I was just confusing myself.

Brad laughed a little when he saw my (unsuccessful) attempt at frowning at him.

"I'm happy to see you," I somehow found myself replying. The words came out of my mouth before I had thought about what I was saying. Of course I shouldn't have said that. Although, I did have to admit that it was nice being in the company of someone who cared.

Brad looked a bit surprised to hear such a thing come from someone like me, but then he just gave me that smile of his that made me feel slightly funny inside, and took my good hand in his.

"I'm happy to see you too," he said quietly to me.

We just stayed silent for a few moments, neither of us saying a word, and then Brad unwrapped the strange bundle he had brought in for me.

"I got these for you," he said to me, placing a bouquet of red roses on my bedside locker. "Hope you feel better soon."

I looked at the roses, somewhat perplexed by this guy's apparent need to be so damn _nice_ to me. I shrugged the feeling off. It was better than him being nasty to me, anyway.

I looked back at Brad. "Thank you," I replied.

We just stayed gazing into each others eyes for a few moments after that. I knew I should probably have felt a little awkward, but surprisingly, I couldn't tear my gaze away from Brad's deep, brown eyes. I could see that he had a funny look in his eyes – whether it was some sort of hidden emotion I couldn't read or whether or not he was allergic to something in the air, I couldn't actually tell. I thought it resembled something close to affection, which I knew was totally crazy. But it honestly looked like that was Brad's dominant emotion at the time.

All of a sudden, it dawned on me how long I must have been asleep. I diverted my gaze (not without a lot of effort, surprisingly) and looked around the room for some sort of clock. There wasn't one to be seen anywhere.

Brad must have noticed my eyes searching the walls of the room for a clock, for he asked me, "What's wrong?"

I just replied, "I would just like to know what time it is." (I knew it came out sounding a bit lame, but I honestly had to know.)

"It's exactly 2200 hours sharp," Brad informed me. (How he knew that, I didn't know – I guess it just pays to keep track of these things if you're a Space Marine.)

"Thank you," I replied. "Well, in that case, you'd better go and instruct my men to do a night patrol."

"Don't worry, Sarge," was the reply. "I'll go and do that now, although, I've got to hand it to you – that bunch of idiots hardly listen to me. You must be doing something right if they listen to you."

Brad smiled slightly. I just smiled too. I probably was performing my duties well, then. It was a relief to hear those words coming from someone other that my conscience, for once.

Brad got up to leave the room, and giving my hand a little (presumably affectionate) squeeze (huh?), he walked over to where the doctors who were always there to monitor my condition (I guess you can't be too careful in a cy-bug-riddled world) were seated, on the other side of the room. I wanted to hear if Brad was going to say anything positive about me, saying how strong I was, but every piece of information about me and my condition was exchanged in a low whisper. I managed to catch one thing that Brad said, though, and that was "She's a great woman, she's stronger than most of the men we have on our force." And, for some reason, those words made me smile.

After that brief exchange, Brad went over to the door to leave. Before leaving, he turned around and said to me, "Sleep well. I'll be back in the morning."

With that, he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

When he was gone, I looked back at the roses he had brought in for me. That was a nice gesture, sure, although I thought it somewhat unnecessary. I mean, we weren't even _in love_ (well, not yet anyway. The way he was going – well, let's just say he was probably hoping that I'd fall for him eventually. He certainly had a few things to learn if he thought his actions were going to have any immediate effect on me, the hard-edged Sergeant Calhoun.) Why did he have to be so nice to me? It was very pleasurable to have someone nearby, besides the various doctors, who cared deeply about my wellbeing, but, Mod forbid, I just wished he wouldn't make me feel funny inside. I sure hoped the strange feeling was just a sign of thanks. It would have been very weird if it was anything else at an early stage like that. I just let those thoughts go and tried to focus on getting a good night's sleep for once.

I shifted around in the bed, trying hard to get my body into a (reasonably) comfortable position. Mod, that mattress was hard – it was almost like sleeping on a bed of rocks. Bearing that in mind though, it didn't actually take long to get myself nice and cosy, and before long, I felt tired enough to let sleep take over my mind once again. Within minutes of my head hitting the pillow, I had fallen into a deep, dreamless (thank Mod – I'd probably have nightmares instead) sleep.

The last thing my mind thought to itself before I fell asleep was Brad's words to me: "I'll be back in the morning." And, somewhat surprisingly, I felt really glad about that.

I was actually looking forward to it already.


End file.
